


Everything You Have (And What Is Left After That Too)

by the_fluff_awakens



Series: The Dog Days [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Daredevil Spoilers, Drabble, F/M, Ficlet, Frank/Karen, I am very much offended, Karen/frank - Freeform, One Shot, Why is there no tag for this couple yet, kastle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 16:58:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6432775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_fluff_awakens/pseuds/the_fluff_awakens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karen hadn't planned this. She hadn't planned any of this. In fact, she could distinctly remember telling Frank Castle he was dead to her. He had responded with, "I'm already dead," before slamming the door on her, which had made her think that he'd understood what she had meant.</p><p>And yet there he sat on her couch, eating cereal from her favorite bowl like some goddamned frat boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything You Have (And What Is Left After That Too)

**Author's Note:**

> Took a little break from writing for another fandom because these two just...took over my brain for like DAYS after I finished watching season 2 of Daredevil. It sat in my phone's notes for a while because I thought I'd continue writing it, as an ongoing fic, but then I also kinda like it as it is.

  


* * *

  


_happiness hit her like a bullet in the back_  
_struck from a great height_  
_by someone who should know better than that_  


  


* * *

  


  
It'd been two weeks since Frank Castle had first shown up at her place in the middle of the night, tapping on her window as he'd sat on the fire escape. She'd almost let him stay out there in the cold, and he probably would have, the idiot. In the end, though, she'd simply opened her window wordlessly and climbed back into bed.

"Thanks, ma'am," he'd muttered as he'd lugged in a couple of duffel bags that sounded suspiciously like they contained guns and ammunition. Who was she kidding? It's Frank, of course they'd contained guns and ammo. He'd collapsed on her couch, so completely exhausted that he'd fallen straight to sleep, his limbs spilling out at awkward angles, still wearing his boots.

They hadn't talked about it the following day, Frank had still been asleep when Karen had left for work, and she didn't have the heart to wake him up anyway. When she'd gotten home later that day, the couch had been empty, but his bags had still been on the floor where he'd left them. There was also a police scanner on her coffee table.

_Goddamn Frank Castle!_

Still, she'd left her window unlocked that night, and she'd watched quietly from her bed as Frank had slunk in, toting a mean-looking rifle and wearing a bulletproof vest that had a skull spray-painted on the front. Like the night before, he'd gone straight for the couch and collapsed into sleep.

And that had been how Karen Page found herself harboring a fugitive in her tiny crappy one bedroom apartment. They had chased each other like the sun and the moon, barely getting a glimpse of the other, but managing to co-exist in this weird little habitat.

Until last night, when Frank had come home bleeding after an encounter with The Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Or as Frank liked to call him, Red. Or as Karen liked to call him, Matt.

Karen had bolted out of bed when, instead of his usual routine of slipping quietly inside the apartment through the window, Frank had grunted and had fallen face first on the floor.

"Oh my god, what happened?" She'd helped him up, but he'd been too heavy for her to carry all the way to the couch, so she had just pushed him down on her bed.

_I needed to change the sheets anyway._

"Frank! Wake up," she'd said frantically, slapping his face lightly and hoping he hadn't given himself a concussion. She hadn't really known what she would have done if he had one, she couldn't exactly have just waltzed him into Metro General.

"Mrmph."

"Always so eloquent." 

She had had to tug at the rifle in his hand several times before he'd let it go. After setting it down on the floor gingerly, she had taken off his boots, and had wondered how in the hell she was going to remove that stupid vest. She'd ran to the bathroom instead, grabbing the first aid kit and a glass of water. When she had returned, Frank had been sitting up, struggling with the aforementioned vest.

"Jesus, Frank, lie down!"

She'd tossed the kit on the bed next to him, had handed him the glass of water, and had unfastened the vest, slapping Frank's hand away when he'd tried to help. She'd somehow managed to take his blood soaked shirt off, throwing it on the floor next to his rifle. She had then proceeded to clean the blood off him, applying alcohol and then antiseptic on the cuts, her stomach churning at the thought of having to stitch up some of the bigger ones. 

"Who got you?" she'd asked quietly when Frank's breathing seemed to finally calm down.

"What makes you think _I_ didn't get _them_?" The playful tone somehow had not had the desired effect when his smile had only revealed his bloody teeth. Karen's death stare had quickly wiped that smile off his face. "Had a run in with Red. Might've disagreed on how to handle some bad guys. The usual."

As she had finished cleaning his cuts, Karen had briefly wondered who was doing the same thing for Matt, but she had quickly shaken the thought away. 

_One vigilante at a time, Karen._

"This one needs stitching," she'd muttered, blanching a little as she'd pointed out a particularly wide cut on his arm.

Frank must have seen her discomfort because he had taken the needle from her hand when it shook and had threaded it himself. Without even a moment of hesitation, or a sharp intake of breath, he had proceeded to stitch the gash on his left forearm.

"Oh my god!" Karen had mumbled, squirming out of the bed and heading for the kitchen. She'd grabbed the bottle of whiskey on top of the fridge, drank straight from it without even bothering to get a glass.

"Mind if I have some of that?" Frank had called from the bed, cutting the thread off with his teeth. "Might disinfect my insides a little."

Karen couldn't understand how he could still make jokes, but she had passed him the bottle without a word. She'd taken the first aid kit back to the bathroom, splashed her face with water to calm her nerves, and returned to the bed. When she'd pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed, Frank had gotten up quickly.

"I'll sleep on the couch," he'd said, already on his way.

"Don't be stupid, that tiny couch is just going to give you more injuries. We're adults, we can sleep on the same bed without it being weird."

Frank had seemed to consider this, body tilting towards the direction of the couch, before sitting back on the bed. He'd taken another long swig from the bottle before passing it back to Karen. She had then taken one last drink before setting the bottle down on the floor.

"Hit the light, will you?" she'd asked, turning on her side so her back was to Frank. When the lamp had turned off, she'd felt his weight settling on the bed next to her. "Good night, Frank."

"Good night, Karen."

That had been the first time he'd used her name, Karen had realized as she'd drifted off to sleep.  


  


* * *

  


  
Karen had called in sick this morning, not wanting to leave Frank alone. She considered calling Matt to check on him, but she couldn't exactly tell him how she knew he had gotten into a serious fight last night. How would that even go? _"Hi, Matt? How are you? The escaped convict I've been hiding in my apartment informed me you two had a fight last night."_

At the same time, she couldn't exactly ask Frank what state he'd left "Red" in last night. He'd already shown how easily he could read Karen and her feelings for Matt, whatever they may be, she didn't want to risk him finding out Daredevil's identity through her face.

She made a pot of coffee and some toast, chewing on the burnt edges without really tasting anything. The moment she poured coffee into her mug, Frank sat up in bed, groaning in pain.

"That coffee I smell?"

"Yeah, just stay in bed, I'll bring you a cup," she instructed, even as Frank approached. She turned to find him standing behind her, rubbing his eyes, barefoot and still wearing nothing but his bloody pants. She felt the warmth spreading from her neck up to her face as her eyes raked down his torso and she realized that underneath all the layers of clothes—and past all the blood and bruises—Frank Castle was pretty ripped. What else did she expect?

"Thanks," Frank muttered, accepting the cup and smirking at her. Damn her extremely light complexion.

"You should eat something," she said, turning back around to hide her face. And also to stop staring at him. "You want toast?"

She felt him peering over her shoulder at her burnt toast, sensed his hesitation in his silence. She sighed and rolled her eyes as she reached for the cereal on top of her fridge. 

"I had no idea you were so sensitive about your toast," she grumbled, shoving the box of Cheerios against his chest.

"Not usually, I just prefer them to be edible," he joked, accepting the bowl she handed to him and watching as she took the milk out of the fridge.

They sat next to each other on the couch, Karen flipping through several news channels as Frank quietly ate his cereal.

"No work today?" Frank asked, looking down at his bowl.

"Called in sick," she answered without taking her eyes off the tv. "Don't feel like coming home to find a dead man in my apartment."

Frank grunt-snorted, no doubt imagining how she'd handle that.

"It wouldn't be the first time," she said, looking at him with her eyebrow raised. 

"Oh no?" he asked, a small smile forming on his lips. "You used that .380 on him, did you?"

"No," she answered, gritting her teeth at the memory. "Woke up and found myself covered in my co-worker's blood, with no memory of what happened."

"Jesus," he muttered, setting his bowl down on the coffee table in front of them, and turning in his seat to face her. "What happened?"

"What do you think? I got arrested, of course," she said, turning her attention back to the tv. "That's when I met Matt and Foggy. They were my lawyers. I was their first case ever."

"No shit?"

"Yeah," she said, now smiling at the memory. "For some reason Matt just knew I was innocent, and they were able to prove it. Proved I was set up."

"That when you fell in love with him?"

Her brows furrowed as she looked at him, wondering if he's teasing her again.

"I'm pretty sure he loves you too," he continued. "But it's hard to tell on account of his.." He gestured with his big hand over his eyes and Karen couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Don't be an asshole," she said, still laughing.

"I'm not being an asshole, I'm just saying."

"No, I don't think I'm in love with him. I don't think either of us are."

She pursed her lips as a twinge of pain shot through her chest, remembering the beautiful woman in his bed, his lame attempts to explain. If she really stopped to consider everything, she supposed she could believe nothing had happened, that the woman had been sick and was under Matt and the older man's care. But then she remembered the intimacy between them, how they just looked like they _fit together_ , how she never felt that same intimacy with Matt.

"Because he hurt you?" he asked flatly, and Karen didn't really feel like hearing the whole the-people-who-can-really-hurt-you-are-the-people-who-are-close-to-you speech again.

"That day he was a no show at your hearing, I went to his place and found him in bed with another woman, okay?"

So maybe it didn't exactly happen the way that sounded, but she didn't really feel like getting into it. She went back to flipping through channels angrily, feeling him staring at her with his mouth slightly agape.

"Damn," he muttered after a while, reaching for his half-empty bowl of soggy cereal. "Didn't think the guy had it in him."

She turned to glare at him and found him smirking at her, obviously trying to make her laugh again. She rolled her eyes at him, but couldn't stop the small smile that formed on her lips.

**Author's Note:**

> As I was trying to come up with a title for this one-shot, I realized just how perfect Florence + The Machine's Dog Days Are Over is for this couple. I mean, have you really listened to the words? So yes, both of my fics are titled after Florence songs. I am not at all apologetic about this.


End file.
